Photo credit: Andrew Malone
Gather around to listen to the last living witness of Hadili. Long ago, I lived in that infamous haunted port. The harbor bustled with fishing boats and traders. Cypress trees lined wide avenues. Grapevines and olive trees dotted the hills.
The war with the Evrak devastated us, but we fought them off. Our leaders spoke of hope. We would rebuild.
Then Sabiron the Destroyer arrived, with her ships of armored corpses. She raised our own fallen against us, hideous desecrations.
The dead shed no blood, feel no pain. One took an arrow to the eye; it barely slowed. You cut off one arm and it fights with the other. Seeing their empty-eyed brothers slaying children, men vowed to release them, only to meet the same fate.
They fought until nothing was left.
Scavengers have ventured in since. Some return with rescued heirlooms or stolen treasures, some babbling with madness. Most never return.
Bury your dead deep. Hide them. They killed Sabiron, but she has died before. Who can say which death will be the last?
Word count: 175. Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. Big thanks to our hostess Priceless Joy, and to Barb CT for providing the original photo prompt, below. Click here to see the other stories and to submit one of your own!
For more on the history behind this story, check out Dead Reckoning. Yes, it turns out that the infamous warlord Sabiron the Destroyer is the same necromancer who thinks of herself as Sabna (her father’s nickname for her), even after all those years and all those bodies.
Photo © Barb CT